


Alamarri Law

by Coldcase



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avvar Culture and Customs, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Platonic Cuddling, Protagonist is not Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-30 05:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13943754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldcase/pseuds/Coldcase
Summary: Ren wakes up in a strange place with strange people asking her about some Lady of the skies. She's sure she's about to be a ritual sacrifice for some cult before she sees the giant green hole in the sky. Thrust into a terrifying yet familiar world with nothing but her knowledge of future events and sarcastic personality, Ren tries to figure shit out without dying.





	1. A Whole New World

Ren didn’t fully register when she woke up. It was a slow, building thing—the throbbing in her temples swelling until she could no longer stay still. Cursing Tara for the hangover that was no doubt the result of her sliding shot after shot in front of Ren, she reached a hand out blindly, aiming for her bedside table’s top drawer. She knew she had some ibuprofen left, somewhere.

When the tips of her fingers brushed against something soft and distinctly not table-like, her brow furrowed. Ren opened her eyes before slamming them shut again as the pain in her head spiked at the sudden light. Bringing her hand back up to clutch at her head, Ren let out a grunt in protest of the feeling.

The sudden gasp that reached her ears made her risk the light once more, and she cautiously cracked her left eye open just enough to peek through her lashes at the room around her.

This was definitely not her bedroom. There was no bedside table, or book of the week, or her ridiculous Star Wars lamp that was BB-8 themed. The bed underneath her was made of soft fur that she had felt earlier, and she was covered by heavy layers of similar furs.

The biggest difference, however, was the source of the noise. A man in a wooden chair was sitting across the room from her, wearing what looked like layers upon layers of leather and fur. His bald head was peeking out over the top, showcasing the tattoos swirling around the sides of his skull.

She’d blame her headache for her reaction, as she knew that the logical thing to do at that point was scream, or some variance of that, but she was exhausted and in pain, so she lifted just her fingers, her arm too heavy to leave the bed, and gave a hesitant wave.

“Um, hi?” She croaked out.

The man immediately launched up from his seated position and ran for the door on the side of the room opposite the bed at a dead sprint, rushing through it before she could get another word out.

Her fingers dropped back down onto the fur. “Right, okay.”

Some sense of reasoning managed to find it’s way through her pain-dulled mind, and Ren slowly pushed herself up, struggling against the trembling of her weak limbs. When she finally managed to prop herself up against the stone wall behind her, a wave of dizziness hit her, dragging her head back until she rested it against the cold stone. The haze that settled over her eyes was hard to blink away, but she managed as she blew a tangled lock of blonde hair out of her eyes and slowly took stock of the room.

It was all smooth stone and wood from the walls to the intricately carved door. There was a large wooden bowl full of water on a stand next to a chest on the left side of the room, and the large window on the right wall let in a bright light that made her squint for a moment before she adjusted.

All that managed to go through her mind was _Where the hell-_ before the door opened once more, revealing the man from before, followed by a much larger, even more intimidating looking one.

Apart from his towering stature, the first thing she noticed about him was the large set of horns jutting out from either side of a grey and white headdress that left only his lower face open, with little holes for the eyes. On top of the headdress sat another pair of horns, though those ones looked more like antlers than the ram horn looking ones on the sides. His chest was bare and covered in a paint that was flaking just a bit on the sides from where his arms must have brushed against it, and his lower half was covered by a fur skirt thing that went over his pants.

Overall, a bit of a terrifying image, especially when he towered over Ren in the unfamiliar bed she was in. She instinctively pulled the furs tighter around her body.

“You’re finally awake.” His deep voice was a bit scratchy, like someone on the tail end of a cold. “It’s been a few days since the Lady of the Skies sent you to us. We were starting to get worried that you might not wake at all.” He gestured to the man with the tattoos. “Kren’s told me you were just healin’ from the fall, but even he was nearly sent to an early sky burial when you woke up.”

Ren stared at the two men, pushing past the constant pounding in her head as she tried to understand what was happening. “Fall? And who are you? Where am I?” She winced as the high pitch her voice reached caused another spike of pain.

The larger man looked down at her with sympathy and a question lingering in his eyes. “You fell from a hole in the sky. Opened right in front of Hevnar while he was training his boy in swords. Heard him screaming from clear across the Fort.”

He moved toward her then, and she reared back about a millimeter before she was practically molded to the wall behind her, but whatever attack she was expecting didn’t happen. Instead, Ren was greeted with the sight of the bear of a man kneeling down on one knee in front of her, now just a little below eye level.

“We prayed for guidance when the Lady of the Sky was wounded, and she sent you from one of the wounds in her skin.” His face was grave and his eyes unreadable, even while hers widened in complete bafflement. “I am Movran the Under, thane of Frost-Howler Hold. We do not yet know what our Lady requires of us. Why did she send you?”

Ren couldn’t help but just stare at him for a moment. Who was this lady and what did these men think she had to do with her? Holes in the sky? What the hell was he talking about? Her head ached, more now than when she first woke up, and she gritted her teeth against the tears that prickled in the corner of her eyes, blurring her vision.

“I…I’m sorry but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m don’t know who this lady is, or what’s going on. All I know is that my head is killing me.” At that, Movran gestured to the man behind him, and he quickly brought forth a glass vial that held a swirling red liquid. He passed it off to Movran and stepped back once more, and when Ren caught his eyes there was a look there that made her uncomfortable. Something between disbelief and awe.

“This will help your head.” Movran caught her attention again as he held the vial out for her to take, which she did with uncertainty, looking down into the deep red contents warily. She chanced another glance at Movran, who was watching her expectantly before looking back down. She didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t look anything like any drug or drink she’d ever heard of, and at that point she was willing to take a hammer to her head if it gave her a few moments of respite.

Clenching her jaw, Ren raised the vial to her lips and downed the strange liquid in one go, coughing as the fowl taste registered on her tongue. It tasted like a mix of dirty water and tree bark. Not exactly the most pleasant, but just a few moments after she swallowed the pain in her head began to subside to a tolerable level, not yet leaving entirely. She stared at the empty vial with astonishment, and a deep chuckle forced her eyes back to Movran.

“Works wonders, eh?” His smile peeked through his scruffy beard as he took the empty vial back from her pliant hand and tossed it back to the man, Kren.

“What was in that?” She tried to scrap the leftover taste from her tongue with her teeth.

“You’d have to ask Kren.” Movran turned to look at Kren, and the man took that as his cue.

“Ah. It’s just a small healing poultice. It’s created using elfroot and a distillation agent.” His voice was higher than she would have guessed from the rough jawline and head-tattoos, but weirdly enough it fit him.

“Any of those things red?” She asked, causing a questioning frown to form on Kren’s face.

“I—well, no?” Kren responded.

“Then why’s it red?” Ren questioned the man. Kren looked lost for a moment, at first as to the line of questioning, then the look transformed to match one of his own curiosity.

“I don’t know.” He sounded put off by that, and when Ren caught his eye again, the look of awe had faded as he pulled a notebook out of the bag slung over his shoulder and began to write in it fervently.

 “Right, well anyways.” Movran once again directed her eyes back to him. “We might not know yet the meaning of your arrival, but the Lady sent you for a reason. It seems we will find out that reason together.” He smiled at her in what she was sure was meant to be a reassuring way, but all Ren could think about was that these men were obviously in some kind of weird cult, and they believed that whatever ‘Lady’ they worshiped had sent her. Her answering smile was more of a grimace than anything.

When both men just stared at her for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, Ren looked away from them and noticed her state of dress. She was in a nightgown that she definitely didn’t own, and the realization that someone, who she hoped was not one of these men, had changed her made her shoulders tighten with unease.

“So, any chance I could have my pants back?”

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently, whatever clothing she’d had on her when she’d supposedly ‘fallen’ had been completely shredded. Movran had led her over to the chest against the wall and pulled some soft leather pants and a cotton shirt out of it for her. They were a bit big, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He’d also held out a large, warm looking leather jacket that was lined with fur, telling her she’d need it before she left the room.

She was grateful that he’d insisted as he opened the door for her. The brisk air sent a shiver through her body as she clutched at the side of the doorframe, running her fingers through her hair to try and tame it. Getting her first look at the place she had found herself in, she was left gaping up at the sky.

Or rather, the enormous green rip in the middle of it.

It was far off in the distance, but it was large enough to see clearly from where this ‘Frost-Howler Hold’ was located in a mountain range.

_The Frostback Mountains_ , her mind supplied while she stared at the hole in the reality of this world. There was no way. Ren was staring up at the _breach._ As in the gigantic green tear in the sky that was spewing out _demons_. Demons from a _video game._

Suddenly, her throat felt tight, and Ren struggled to get air into her lungs as she fell to her knees on the soil outside the house. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the glowing green, even as she felt hands on her shoulders and the corners of her vision went black from the lack of oxygen.

The last thought going through her head before she slumped into the arms of the man behind her was of some poor soul out there with a strange mark on their hand, and how unbelievably fucking happy she was that it wasn’t her.

 

* * *

 

The next time Ren woke up, she kept her eyes closed for a full ten minutes, hoping that when she opened them, she would be lying in her lumpy bed in Washington, and not anywhere near a gigantic hole in the sky. Her hopes proved fruitless, however, when she cracked open an eye to find the same room from before, though empty this time.

A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she ran a hand through her hair—her fingers getting caught on a knot, making her flinch as she gently and methodically started to untangle the blonde mess on top of her head. She was glad to have been alone when she woke up this time, as she needed a moment to catch her breath from what she’d seen outside. A glance toward the window with a weird expectation to see green light provided a faded light compared to the one from earlier. It was nearing sunset, from what she could tell. 

How the hell did she end up in her brother’s favorite video game? Maybe it was a prolonged dream and if she just—Ren smacked herself in the face. Nope. Nothing gained there but a red mark and a slightly sore jaw. She rubbed at the red mark as she continued to theorize. Maybe a coma? A really in-depth coma that let her feel pain and have panic attacks that led to her passing out.

She wished she could be excited about this, as she had no doubt her brother, Kellen, would have been in her position, but she didn’t know nearly as much about the game as he did. Sure, she knew the main plot points, and some random specific facts that came about from googling, but her love for the game never came from the story itself like her brother’s did.

She loved the people. She had watched over her brother’s shoulder as he had played the Warden, becoming friends with all of the colorful companions, and more with Morrigan. She had grown so attached to the characters, that she had immediately asked if she could play through when he was done. Ren had then proceeded to learn more about those people and had romanced every one of them at least once. She never got all the way to the end of origins, but she’d seen it through her brother, and YouTube.

When Kellen had played as Hawke, he had always played as the serious, broody man with a dark past. Ren had preferred the snarky lady with an equally dark past but a serious lack of healthy coping mechanisms. Kellen had romanced Isabela. Ren absolutely loved her and tried to romance someone else at first, but she’d had to go back and start a new game when the pirate took over with very little effort. She’d gone through all of them again, learning how they lived and loved, and she’d loved each of them in turn.

Inquisition was rough. She remembered Kellen practically screaming with joy when he’d finally come home with it, and Ren had been excited to see if any of the companions would make a comeback. And there was good old Varric being a smartass and Cullen being angsty. Ren got worried when Leliana showed up and seemed so…cold. She had wanted to reach through the screen and give the redhead a hug, but her brother had moved along to the story. He was always more interested in the lore of the world and the magic than the people. It didn’t stop him from romancing Dorian, though.

She didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved that she didn’t seem to be anywhere near Haven. Well, maybe she was near it if she was in the Frostback mountains. She was caught between wanting to see the companions and wanting to stay as far away as possible from the shit that was about to go down.

She’d never gotten the chance to play inquisition, herself. What she knew of it came from Youtubing all of the romances and decisions and watching her brother play it. He said he’d lend it to her when he was done, but it was a bigger game this time, and he was always busy at the hospital.

He had called her last week, saying that he’d finished it. Well, yelling at her about not telling him the ending. He’d _said_ he hadn’t wanted spoilers! Sue her for trying not to ruin the ending for him. He was going to bring the game when he came for their weekly movie night on Saturday.

She’d gone out to drinks with Tara on Friday night.

Ren let out another sigh as she got up from the bed and made her way over to the window, noticing that they’d left her in the pants and shirt this time, though the jacket was folded over the back of the chair. She rested her hands on the windowsill as she looked out at the sun setting on the snowy mountains. It was a beautiful sight, marred only by the edge of a jagged green line on her left that was only just in view if she pressed her cheek up to the cold glass.

What the hell was going on?

 

* * *

 

When she’d managed to pull herself away from the window, Ren had slipped on the pair of suppled leather boots that were next to the door and braced herself for only a moment before opening it.

The same cold hit her, but it was offset by the warmth of the fading sun on her face. A glance around the hold, while very pointedly not looking up, showed her a large fortress full of people in the same furs that she had been given. Some were shooting arrows at targets near the tree line to her far left, and a clang of metal against metal let her know that sword training was happening nearby that, as well. Mostly, there was a steady stream of people heading all in the same direction, a few glancing over to her briefly before their eyes widened and they rushed ahead of the crowd, no doubt to inform Movran that she’d woken up from her fainting spell.

That was embarrassing.

Ren reached up to scratch her face in an attempt to hide the flush that was making its way up her neck, before slinking forward to merge with the crowd that was headed toward a large and long building at the center of the fort. It was probably her best bet to find Movran and ask him a few more questions.

She sidled up next to a lanky looking man with dark hair, and, looking around, noticed that most of the people had the same dark hair with just a few smatterings of yellow and red mixed in. Something about the cold environment maybe?

The man next to her gave her a cautious sidelong glance before doing a double take. She glanced at him warily in return as his mouth parted a little in surprise, before he seemed to notice her discomfort and her simply nodded and continued forward. She let out a sigh of relief and nodded back in thanks, and a small smile curled at the corner of his lips before they reached the massive doors to the building.

Inside, a gigantic hall filled with tables were full of talking and laughing people who were eating and drinking. Along both sides on the hall were lines that led to giant pots filled with a stew that gave off a mouthwatering scent. Her feet stopped for a moment, and the man from before gently placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the line on the right.

She let herself be led and gave him another small smile that he returned before she continued glancing around the room. The head of the room had one massive chair, no doubt for Movran, which she assumed was their leader. What did thane mean, anyway? It was empty at the moment, and she searched the room, but she couldn’t find any hint of Movran anywhere.

A hand at her elbow from the man brought her attention to the larger man holding out a bowl of stew to her, and she quickly grabbed the bowl with a hastily muttered ‘thank you’ and followed after the dark haired man, as she didn’t really have any better ideas at the moment.

Once he led her to a table and they had gotten their seats, he turned to her. “You’re the one the Lady sent to us.” She kept her reaction to just a tightening around her eyes, but he seemed to see it nonetheless. “Ah, alright then, introductions first. I am Rudan Ar Frolyn O Frost-Howler, the best tailor in the clan.” A crooked smile lit up his face as he held out his hand toward her.

“Ren. Um, Ren Marshall.” She reached her own hand out to shake his, but Rudan grasped her forearm in a gentle grip for a moment, his nose crinkling as his smile widened and made small wrinkles near his eyes more pronounced. “Currently unemployed.”

A confused furrow in his brow became present, and she clarified. “I don’t have a job right now.” At that he nodded slowly, still looking a little confused. “Sometimes I write? I tell stories.”

Another smile lit up his face as she started scooping a spoonful of the steaming mystery stew into her mouth, blowing on the liquid so she didn’t burn herself. She didn’t know what the meat was, but it was delicious, so she was going to try not to question it.

“Plotack is a story-teller, too.” Rudan smacked the back of his spoon on the hand of the man across from him, and the harsh look he gave him was quickly replaced with interest as he registered that they were talking about him. “He owes me a story for saving that hide he butchered the other day, don’t you Plotack?”

Plotack didn’t seem very bothered at the idea of telling a story, so Ren settled down for the tale of some god they called Imhar the Clever as she subtly watched for Movran to make an appearance.

“The seductress lured Imhar to the fight, the rules only that they both be unarmed, and when he arrived, he saw an entire army of demons at her back! Playing the coward, Imhar lead them on a merry chase through a winding mountain pass. When they thought they had finally cornered him, Imhar let out a great bellow of a laugh, and the grand noise shook the peaks, causing an avalanche. The horde was crushed beneath the sliding stone!” Plotack gestured with his arms in great sweeping motions as he talked, and Ren had to give it to him, he was a passionate story teller.

Her enjoyment was cut off when a silence settled over the hall, and she turned to see Movran standing before his chair with a large man at his left and a muscled woman to his right.

“Frost-Howler!” Movran began, gaining the attention of the last few people finishing their own conversations. “We have been blessed by the gods this day. Our Lady sent us a message no more than three days ago, and today, that messenger has awoken!” Movran waved his hand toward Ren, and she stiffened her shoulders as every eye in the room turned toward her. “The Lady’s message is not one given so easily. She does not point to the answer, but instead wishes the might of the Frost-Howler clan to be shown through a test!”

At this, around the room the men and women were slamming their cups down on the table and cheering before Movran raised a hand and silenced them once more. “It is our duty to Her to find the answer to this message, with the help of Her messenger. We will not let our Lady down!” Another cheer rose up, and Movran let this one linger a moment before speaking again. “Tonight, we feast, and tomorrow we prepare ourselves. May the Mountain-Father watch over us!”

With a final nod to Ren, Movran took his seat at the head of the room, and the two people on either side of him scattered to opposite ends to the hall. Many people around the room were still looking at Ren, and she resisted the urge to sink down into her seat.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?


	2. Shock to the System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren sees the place she 'fell' from and gets a heavy dose of reality.

A few moments after Movran made his announcement, another man came to sit down on Rudan’s other side, and Ren recognized him as the burly server that gave her the stew. His arms were twice the size of her thighs, and his curly red hair set him apart from the rest of the crowd. The man’s large arm wrapped around Rudan briefly, pulling him in to plant a peck to the top of his head, before the redhead pulled his own bowl of stew closer without another word.

Rudan gave the man a fond smile before turning to Ren. “Forgive him, he’s not a big talker. This here’s Jole.” Jole nodded in acknowledgement and started to scoop stew into his mouth.

The people around her left the questions that she knew were on their minds alone. She didn’t know if it was the permanent grimace she wore, or the way she devoured her stew so fast she started coughing on it every time someone looked like they were going to talk to her. Throughout the meal, she felt eyes on her more than once, and when she sought out the source, she caught two sets of eyes from either side of the hall—the two that had stood near Movran earlier.

The woman’s eyes met hers, and she gave Ren a measuring look that gave away nothing before she turned back to her own dinner companions. The man, however, was more worrying. His face was screwed up in disgust when she looked at him, and the look in his eyes made a shiver of fear trail down her spine. Ren focused back on her food.

The night passed quickly after that, and soon enough the last stragglers were leaving the hall. Rudan cast a look at her when she didn’t get up with him and the rest, but Ren just tilted her head toward Movran, and Rudan nodded before continuing out with Jole.

As she went to approach Movran, Ren noticed the two from before both standing by him. But, before she could change her mind and try to see him alone, Movran looked up at her and waved her over. The woman from before turned to look at her, and a smirk curled up one side of her mouth as Ren approached.

“So, the messenger graces us with her presence.” At her words, the man beside her turned as well. He took one look, sneered down at her from his impressive height, then turned on his heel and strode out of the hall. “Don’t mind my brother,” Ren looked away from the door he’d left from and back to the woman, “He’s got _important business_ to take care of.” She spoke the words mockingly.

“Dala.” Movran warned, and the woman, Dala, waved a hand in a dismissing motion, causing Movran to sigh before looking at Ren. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ren beat him to it.

“Ren.”

Both of them glanced at each other before looking back to her, but it was Movran who spoke. “Sorry?”

“My name. It’s Ren. Not _the messenger._ ” The only response her words had on the woman was a slight tightening of her lips, and Movran simply looked confused. “You didn’t even ask for it earlier. You know, when you came to inform me that I _fell out of the sky._ Still a bit iffy on that, by the way.”

Ren could see Dala looking back and forth between them for a moment. “Well, I’ve got…something to do.” She sent Movran, who Ren assumed was her father, a look that she couldn’t interpret before following her brother out the door.

“I apologize, Ren.” Movran started. “With everything that had happened, I didn’t stop to think. I was so excited that She had sent us an answer. I realize this must be a bit disorienting, and not having memory of why she sent you must be hard. But,” he placed a large hand on her shoulder, “you are not alone. We will figure out Her message together.”

Ren leaned back enough for his hand to fell off her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who this ‘She’ is that you keep talking about.”

Movran took a long look at her before sighing and gesturing after himself as he started walking, and she followed behind as he spoke. “The Lady of the Skies is god above all, and all Avvar clan’s follow her.” Something about ‘avvar’ made something in her mind tingle, like a small alert going off, but Movran continued, so she shelved it for later. “The birds are Her messengers, and the skies are Her domain. When we die, we give ourselves to Her messengers to take into the sky.”

Ren’s brow furrowed briefly before she quickly wiped the expression off her face. “She sounds lovely, but that isn’t really my problem here.” She spoke quietly as they passed by a couple of people carrying a large buck over their shoulders towards a house near the hall they had left. “I just don’t understand why you think _She_ sent _me_.”

“You fell from one of the wounds that have opened up since _that_ happened.” Movran pointed up and to the side, and Ren followed his gaze to the Breach—looming ominously overhead, but stabilized. At least that gave her a rough idea of where they were at on the timeline. She tore her eyes away when she started to feel a bit light-headed again.

“You believe that your god would send someone who doesn’t even believe in them? What sense does that make?” Ren’s voice rose a bit at the end, and she glanced around, seeing no one paying them any attention, before looking back to Movran.

He was gazing down at her with sympathy. “It is not our place to question the gods. They do as they will, and the Avvar do their best not to displease them. They can be kind, and they can be confusing.” Movran stopped walking, and Ren saw that they had reached ‘her’ house. “If it would help you to understand, tomorrow we can take you to the place where we found you.” Ren nodded quickly, grateful. “For now, rest. Tomorrow we will go.”

Ren watched him turn away and gave a heaving breath before opening the door. Before she closed it all the way, she heard Movran’s voice bellowing behind her.

“Besides, it would not be the first time a god has answered a non-believer!”

Ren glanced back at him, and only saw a contemplative look on his face as he stared back at her before the door shut, and her view was blocked. Shrugging it off, Ren settled in for her first night in Thedas.

When Ren woke up the next morning, she did not expect a group of six people to stare her down the minute she opened the door. Movran was at the front of the group, and to his left stood Dala. Movran wore the same outfit she saw him in yesterday, but the rest of the group were all outfitted in some harder looking leathers and a few even had metal plates attached that covered their chests and arms. They all carried weapons.

It wasn’t until that moment that Ren realized what she had asked for. She was going to a rift, and that meant demons. Was it too late to back out? Just say ‘hey, you know what? I changed my mind about the whole thing. Who wants to go get breakfast?’.

“Well…it’s early.” Ren was proud that she didn’t hear the anxiety she could feel building up in her voice.

Movran’s deep chuckle shook something loose in her chest. “We have been ready for many hours, messenger. You are slow.”

Nervousness was put on hold for a moment as Ren immediately sprung to defensive mode. “Hey, fuck you. I’m not used to waking up at the butt crack of dawn.”

One of the men behind Movran glared at her and started forward, his hand reaching for the pommel of the sword he wore at his side, but Movran’s booming laugh stopped him in his tracks. “You are full of fire, messenger.” He dropped a massive hand down on her shoulder, and it jostled her a bit. “Good. You will need it.” He gestured to the gathered group. “These warriors will take you to the place you fell. It is not far – just past the training grounds – but one cannot be too careful in these times.”

Dala stepped forward and looked down at her – Ren was starting to wonder what these people were eating that made them giants – and frowned. “You did not carry any weapons with you when you fell. Tell us your weapon and we will provide one for you.”

“I – uh.” Ren looked around at the group, suddenly feeling even smaller, somehow. “I don’t have one?” When Movran and Dala just continued to look at her, she clarified. “I don’t use weapons. I…don’t know how to use one.”

Movran’s face displayed his shock openly, while Dala looked downright _offended_. “Even the lowlanders regularly train with weapons.” The taller woman whispered.

“Did your leader not allow you a weapon?” Movran looked at her with concern.

Ren blew a wild lock of hair out of her face. “Now that is something you _really_ don’t want me to talk about.” She didn’t think she could get into the politics of gun control with these people. “Plus, our weapons were a bit…different.”

Dala grunted before reaching down and unstrapping a large hunting knife from her belt before handing it to Ren. “We will teach you, but for now this will do. We will protect you until you can be trained.”

Ren wasn’t sure she _wanted_ to be trained, but she wasn’t about to argue with the amazon of a woman who looked like she could crush Ren with both hands tied behind her back, so she took the belt and started trying to tie it to her own waist. After fumbling for a moment, Ren heard another grunt come from Dala before calloused hands moved her own to the side and deftly tied the belt.

Ren looked up at her face, closer now while she worked on the knife holster, and noticed a thin scar than cut down her strong jaw line and traveled from just underneath her chin to just under her cheek bone. Another laugh from Movran made her cheeks fill with heat as Dala moved back to the rest of the group.

“It seems much training will be needed.” The Thane spoke. She scowled at him and resisted the urge to stick her tongue out.

The journey was a bit longer than Ren was expecting, but she was rather preoccupied with the panic that was returning now that she had left the comfort and safety of those stone walls. Movran had left them at the gate, and then Dala led, the group of men and women falling into position like they’d been doing this for years.

Ren was kept in the middle of the group, surrounded on all sides by tall warriors with sharp looking weapons, and she fidgeted with the handle of the knife as she walked on, her mind wrapped up in itself.

She may have cautiously accepted the predicament she had found herself in, but that doesn’t mean that Ren was anywhere _near_ okay with the idea of so much as _seeing_ a demon. In the game, they had just been pixels that her brother’s inquisitor had destroyed with a massive war hammer. Even then, they had been a bit disturbing – the twisted skeletal forms of terror demons and the hulking mass of pride.

Ren wasn’t going anywhere _near_ that nightmare demon.

Stumbling over a rock, Ren’s inner musings were interrupted as she fell forward into Dala, who barely budged an inch and just looked back at her like she was a child stomping her way through the forest, which, to be fair, wasn’t that far from the truth.

Before too long, Ren noticed the group starting to slow a bit, and a few let their hands rest on the hilts of their weapons, the one behind Ren pulling her bow from her back. She tried not to panic, but she dogged Dala’s steps, nearly running into the woman a couple times and gaining a few confused looks from Dala.

When they reached the edge of the tree line, Ren held her breath. She wasn’t ready. She would take one look at a fucking _whole in reality_ and pass out, then her body would be ripped to shreds by demons and—

Nothing.

It was empty. The clearing was bare apart from tall grass and wildflowers. A noise of confusion emerged from within her throat, and Dala pointed to one side of the clearing.

“There. A green wound opened in the sky, and you came out. It healed behind you.”

It sealed on its own? Ren walked over to the place where she pointed, watching the air carefully to make sure this wasn’t like those rifts in Fallow Mire that had to be reopened before they could be fully closed, but here was nothing. Not even a small ripple in the air.

Whatever brought her here was gone, and Ren felt a hollow in the pit of her stomach form and she took in the clear sky. The ground, however, caught her attention.

Right below where Dala pointed was a scarred bit of land, bare of the same grasses that covered the rest of the area. When Ren knelt down to inspect it, she could see that it looked like it had been scorched, and she could still smell a lingering scent of something burning.

“This is where you landed.” Dala’s voice jolted her. She had managed to get right next to Ren without her noticing.

“Why is it…” Ren motioned at the charred ground before them.

“You were on fire.”

“I was WHAT?”

The sound of something whizzing through the air followed by a grunt made both women swing their heads around to see one of the warriors kneeling with an arrow in his side.

They all pulled their own weapons, and Dala grabbed Ren by the arm and led her to the middle of them as they formed a wall around her. The archer already had an arrow knocked and she fired it into the trees – a thump sound echoing on the ground a moment later as she hit her target – right as a shadow at the edge of the trees stepped forward, revealing a man in a suit of armor that bore the symbol of a sword surrounded by what almost looked like wings.

_Templars._ Shit.

“Wait. Wait!” Ren screamed. “We’re not mages! We don’t want to fight!”

The armored man at the front, followed by two others, charged them with a shout. Diplomacy’s off the table then?

Dala rushed forward to meet them, sliding at the last moment and swiping the front man’s legs out from under him. The two at Ren’s back followed her – one rushed for the archer while the other went back to back with Dala – leaving Ren with their archer, who was firing arrows at the templars from a distance, and the man with an arrow in his side.

Ren quickly turned to him, immediately catching him as his knee gave out, so they were both kneeling on the floor. She could see him reaching one hand toward the arrow, and she batted it away. At his disgruntled look, she explained.

“Keep it in. It’ll stop you from bleeding out until we can get you back.” She may not know much about weapons or fighting, but she had basic first aid knowledge. He looked like he was about to argue, but his face settled, and he nodded, drawing his hand away.

“MOVE!”

Ren didn’t get a chance to look at Dala as she screamed because in the next second, she was _moved._

Another Templar had appeared from behind them and had taken the opportunity to slash at the unarmed girl in the middle. The archer from before had grabbed her, throwing them both bodily to the side to avoid the hit, but the archer’s pained grunt let Ren know that it wasn’t a complete miss.

She was lying on the ground next to Ren, clutching at her arm – now hanging at her side, dripping blood. A cry from in front of them directed Ren to where the templar from before was towering over the man on the ground. Ren watched as the avvar tried to swing his great sword with one hand, and the templar easily batted it away, disarming the man in the process.

Fuck.

The templar raised his sword high above his head, and Ren didn’t even think about it. With the archer out of commission for the moment, that man was defenseless.

Ren rushed forward, a steady stream of _fuck fuck fuck oh holy shit I’m gonna die_ racing through her head, and tackled the templar.

They went crashing to the ground, Ren falling on top of cold armor. The second they hit the ground, Ren scrambled for the knife at her side, fingers just catching the hilt before her world was turned upside down as the templar flipped them over. A gauntlet covered fist came up, and Ren’s head hit the dirt as the templar punched her in the mouth.

Her eyes were still swimming when those hands moved to her throat.

The sudden lack of oxygen was like a shot of adrenaline and fear straight to the heart. She gasped, bringing her hands up to claw at the armored ones strangling her, but it was useless. He was much stronger, and he was using his weight to push down on her.

She could see a darkness tint the corners of her vision, and the sounds of fighting behind her were muffled as she tried to claw at his face, but the helmet covered him from any attacks. The only thing she could see was his triumphant smirk through the slit in his helmet that showed his eyes and mouth.

She was going to die here.

Her vision was tunneled down to just his face, but she reached her hand down anyway, body flooded with panic. She resisted the darkness that pulled at her and grabbed the hilt of the knife at her side, yanking it out with the intent to stop him. Maybe slash at his hands at get him off.

She shoved the knife through the slit in his helmet, feeling the tip pierce his eye.

He was off her then, screaming as he leaned back to grope at his own face where the hunting knife stuck out of his bloodied eye socket, and a rush of air flooded Ren’s lungs.

Her vision went red. She followed after him, leaping on top of his kneeling body and grasping the hilt of the knife again, plunging it in further and twisting it as much as she could in the limited space the helmet provided.

With a final squelching sound followed by a crack coming from inside his helmet, his screams cut off and he fell back to the ground, unmoving.

Ren sat atop him, still holding the knife – her heavy and struggling breaths the only sound she could hear. It wasn’t long before she realized that was the only sound in the clearing, and she looked up to see Dala and the rest of the avvar staring at her, having won their own fights.

“Well,” Dala said, only slightly out of breath, “seems like you know how to use a knife.”

Ren blacked out.

 

* * *

 

_Oh seriously? Not again._ Ren woke back up to a slightly swaying motion and an aching pain in her throat. When she reached up to clutch at it, the swaying stopped.

“It seems it is not time for your sky burial yet.”

Ren’s eyes shot open to see the amused face of Dala above her, and she realized that she was being _cradled in her arms_ and jumped out of them like she was on fire. Brushing herself down of imaginary dirt, she glanced back at Dala and saw a smirk pulling at her lips before she quickly looked back down.

Someone clearing their throat to her left brought her eyes to the man who’d had the arrow sticking out of him. In it’s place were bandages, and Ren guessed that they’d brought some basic supplies in case of emergencies.

“Thank you.” The man said, and Ren raised an eyebrow at him. “For saving my life. If you hadn’t stopped him…”

The confusion was cleared as an image of her hand stabbing a knife into a man’s eye flashed through her mind, and the blood drained from her face.

“You are not avvar, but you saved me anyway. I owe you a life debt.” The man continued.

“Don’t,” Ren made herself swallow as bile tried to force its way up her throat, “worry about it. What’s your name?”

The man stood straight from his hunched position then, holding a closed fist over the center of his chest. “I am Alf ar Prena O Frost-Howler.” Then he moved his hand out toward her.

She clasped his forearm like Rudan had done with her earlier, and his large hand wrapped completely around her’s. “Ren. I’m glad I made it in time.”

“Think you can walk, messenger?” Dala asked, and Ren nodded at her. Her neck and face were twinging in time with her heartbeat, but her legs were fine.

They made it to the hall before she realized that adrenaline rushes make you _tired._ She was struggling to keep her eyes open, even with the unplanned nap she’d had earlier, by the time they reached Movran. 

Dala had led them to a room behind the hall that contained only a large table that was covered in papers and mismatched objects and a chest that sat next to it. In front of the table sat Movran, his son standing to his side, and when Dala ushered them in, he stood from his chair, took one look at them and gritted his teeth.

“Mage hunters ambushed us.” Dala began. “We didn’t expect anyone this close to the hold. They must’ve strayed from their own camp.”

Movran rubbed a hand over his face. “We’ll have to increase patrols. They’re getting bold.” He turned to Ren. “I apologize, messe—Ren. People do not usually come near our hold.”

Ren waved him off a bit sluggishly. “S’fine. None of us died.”

“No thanks to you, I’m sure.”

Ren went stiff as she heard Movran’s son speak for the first time. “Excuse me?”

He sneered at her, small lines of red paint on his face flaking a bit at the tense expression. “The mage-hunters never came this close to the hold before you showed up – some girl who spits in the faces of our gods while claiming to be sent from them.”

“Hey, I never claimed—”

“You are an insult to everything we believe in!” He shouted in her face.

“I haven’t done _anything._ ” She responded, even as she stepped away from the form crowding hers.

“Did you sit there and watch as my clan members fought to protect you?” He hissed at her. “Hiding behind our warriors like a coward as—”

“She is anything but.”

All eyes turned to Alf as he interrupted. Even holding his side, which Ren noticed with concern was bleeding through his bandages, Alf stood tall.

“She told us before she even left that she had no experience with a weapon.” Alf clenched his jaw as he reported, almost like a soldier, to Movran. “Look at her hands. She’s never so much as held one. But when a mage hunter was about to strike me down, she rushed forward, empty handed, and took him to the ground to save me.”

Movran looked him over and saw his bandaged side before turning back to his son. “That is enough for today.”

His son looked shocked. “She still—”

“I said _that is enough._ ” Movran stared him down for a moment, and eventually his son looked away and stormed out of the room. Ren dodged out of the way of a shoulder-check that probably would have sent her into the wall. “Now, let’s get you all to a healer. You look like goat shit.”

Ren couldn’t help the snort that came out.

The healer was a mage that mostly handed them all a bunch of potions, and in Alf’s case a paste that he was supposed to rub on his wound when he redressed it. After telling her that the bruises on her neck would likely last a little while, he handed her a vial of something that was supposed to help with her sore throat and sent her on her way.

It was only reaching a little after mid-day, but Ren rushed back to her cabin as fast as her dragging legs would carry her. She caught Dala’s eye as she walked and received a nod in return, which just confused her more in her exhaustion. When she reached the door, she all but collapsed into it before she opened it and stumbled over to the bed, still fully dressed. It was only moments before she was asleep.

That night, Ren dreamed of fire.

 


	3. Time Heals All Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training and tense moments.

She was burning.

Flames licked up her calves, catching on her thighs. She screamed and screamed her throat raw, but the pain overrode her mind. All she could feel was the raging heat that ate at her, shriveling her flesh into a charred husk.

Red-hot iron around her wrists seared into her flesh, and blisters ran up her arms. The flames rose – higher and higher.

They reached her shoulders, crawling along her neck and up toward her mouth until all she could taste was burning flesh and liquid fire and—

Ren woke up, clawing at her throat as invisible flames burned her from the inside out. She gasped for air as she tried to swing herself out of her bed – her foot getting caught in the furs and dragging her to the ground. Scrabbling across the floor, Ren ripped off the coat she had been wearing, along with her boots.

She grasped at the door handle, pulling herself up and shoving against it with all her weight until she tumbled down to her knees in the dirt outside her cabin.

The night was brisk, and her body began to cool as the sweat dripping down her back and making her oversized shirt cling to her met the air. Ren closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to calm her racing heart. It was just a dream. A very shitty dream, but just a dream. Her head bowed, and she leaned forward a bit until her hands were on her knees, holding her up by her locked shoulders. A dream.

She looked up once more, gazing at the stars overhead. A different sky than the one she knew. Different stars. And the Breach.

The swirling chasm in the center of the sky still remained, marring the otherwise beautiful view, and Ren stared at it with revulsion, her jaw clenching as a bead of sweat made its way from her temple down her throat to collect at her clavicle.

Finally, her breathing settled, and the cold started to creep into her bones. With a sigh, Ren got up from her kneeling position and brushed the dirt off her pants. As she turned to go back inside, a shadow near another cabin close to hers caught her eye, and she turned to it.

Dala was standing at the door of the house across from hers, staring at her with an unreadable look in her eyes.

Ren rushed into her cabin, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment. Had Dala seen that whole thing? Was she standing there in the shadows while Ren burned, wondering why her father was harboring a crazy lady?

A huff of air escaped through her nose, and Ren let her head thump against the wood behind her for a moment before she straightened up and walked over to her bed, settling in for the rest of her sleepless night.

 

* * *

 

Ren spent the next morning searching the crowd in what she was coming to consider the mess hall for Dala’s face. Most of breakfast was spent listening to Rudan explain the tools of his trade with Alf – he’d greeted her first thing that morning with a nod and had followed her silently since – until she finally spotted her. One brief glance in her direction and Ren spent the rest of the time staring at her food.

After breakfast, Movran waved her over. Apparently, it was time to learn how not to die if she ever left the hold again.

“You will learn from our best warrior.” Movran smiled at her, and Ren didn’t know whether or not the ‘no pressure’ was implied on purpose, but she didn’t get a chance to ask when Movran waved someone closer from the side and Ren looked up into green eyes.

It was Dala.

“My daughter is trained in most weapons.” Ren gave Movran a strained smile. “She is best suited to teach you.”

When Ren met Dala’s eyes, there was no question in them, or any indication that she’d seen anything the night before. A small furrow appeared in Ren’s brow before her face smoothed out completely. If Dala was going to pretend it didn’t happen, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Ren followed her out of the hall and toward the left side of the hold. Next to the giant stone wall was a small clearing – dummies littered with arrows on one side and chests and racks full of weapons and mostly leather armor on the other.

Alf followed them over, and while Dala moved ahead of them, he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her before they continued after her. His hand guided her down onto a barrel that rested on the edge of the clearing, and when she turned her head back over her shoulder to look at him, he nudged her to face forward again.

Hands in her hair startled her a bit, but the gentle tugging behind and shushing that came from her reaching back to see what he was doing stopped her. Before long he let go, and Ren dragged her hair, now done up in braids along the sides of her head that led down into one central one, over her shoulder to look. It was tied off with a small bit of leather, and Ren glanced up at Alf, who stood behind her with a self-satisfied look on his face, and thanked him. His response was a small nod. Her hair had been getting in her face a lot lately, but she hadn’t exactly had the time to pack extra hair ties when she’d come. Then she walked into the center of the clearing.

“The Lady protected you, yesterday.” Dala began, walking over to the rack of weapons and grabbing two daggers. “But she cannot always be there to steady your hand. You must learn to fight, or, at the very least, defend yourself.” She tossed the daggers towards Ren – one falling to the ground at her feet while Ren juggled the other as she tried to catch it.

When Ren looked back up, Dala had a similar pair of daggers in her hands and a dangerous looking smile on her face.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

What followed next was a series of dropped daggers and being slammed into the dirt by the avvar woman. Ren ached in places that she didn’t even know she _could_ ache. Her knuckles were scraped and bruised, and blisters formed in her palms from the array of weapons that Dala made her try. ‘You never know what will be near to you. Best to be prepared in any situation.’ Apparently, that meant learning how to use a goddamned great sword. Dala had only watched her attempt to hold it in the air for a few moments, her arms drooping under the weight of the massive weapon, before declaring that she would also be training her for strength as well as speed starting the next morning. Lovely.

Ren barely managed to wash the dirt and sweat off her face in the basin in her cabin before she collapsed into her bed that night.

The days went by in a blur after that. Every morning, Ren would wake up before the sun was even in the sky, Dala waiting at her door. She started with a run – Alf keeping pace beside her silently – to ‘build stamina’. After that was training with daggers, short swords – Dala refrained from making her pick up another great sword – and any other weapon Dala threw at her.

Sometimes Movran would come to watch, laughing whenever her body hit the ground or Dala smacked a weapon out of her hand with a chastising look and cheering with every small thing she got right. It was a slow process, and by the end of every week Ren only felt confident in her ability to _name_ the weapons. She was far from understanding how to use them.

She learned more about the avvar she lived with. Alf even took her to see the ‘hold-beast’. The idea of it had scared the shit out of her before she saw that it was just a small white fennec named Howler. She would admit to squealing a bit when she saw him.

Each night, Ren crumpled into her bed like a broken toy – half the time forgetting to undress or wash. Before she even knew what had happened, she had spent an entire month in Thedas.

 

* * *

 

She’d gotten used to the swing of things: mornings with Rudan and Jole – Alf her silent companion standing just over her shoulder, more comfort than anything else – getting her ass kicked by an amused Dala until the sun hung low in the sky. She’d started spending time with Rudan during the evenings, helping with tanning hides and other basic tasks that the tailor let her do when she wasn’t just watching him work – the motions of his work soothing her mind.

That was why it was such a shock when Movran left with a group of avvar men and women.

“We have many furs and a need for what the dwarves of Orzammar can provide.” Dala had informed her. “They will be back in 10 days.”

 Ren spent a few moments wishing she could go with the group that had left – she’d yet to see anyone who wasn’t human, and the walls of the hold felt stifling at times. That thought was quickly put to rest when she remembered her last trip outside of the hold.

The worst part of it all was that he’d left his son in charge.

It had taken a while for Ren to figure out who he was, and only when someone mentioned the ‘Hand of Korth’ did her mind finally catch up. This asshole was the one who went and kidnapped the inquisition soldiers in the Fallow Mire.

The second she put it all together in her mind, Ren decided to stay as far away from him as possible. He noticed.

Or rather, his men noticed. Within the hold, there was a number of avvar that were distinguished only by a smattering of red paint above the blue, white, and black that the rest wore. Ren guessed that these were the ones that the inquisitor fought in Fallow Mire. During meals in the hall, Ren would feel eyes on her and spot a hint of red in the corner of her vision. When she turned to look, she’d be greeted by nothing but feasting avvar not paying her any attention.

It was more than a little concerning.

Alf had noticed it too, and had taken to placing his large body in between hers and any of the Hand of Korth’s people that got too close. There was an underlying sense of anticipation that continued to build the longer Movran was gone.

Five days had passed when things came to a head – in a different way than she was expecting.

 

* * *

 

Ren ducked as a sword sliced through the air above her head. A bead of sweat glided down her forehead to the tip of her nose, leaving a trail through the dirt smeared across her face. Her brown eyes tracked her enemy’s movements as they lunged for another strike against her – and she saw it.

They’d swung wide, leaving their left side open. Ren sidestepped the strike, curving her dagger around the arm holding the sword and disarming them.

The blade flew to the side along with the dagger she’d had in that hand, and Ren hooked her foot around their ankle, shoving forward with all her strength.

They fell, rolling in the dirt, with Ren coming up on top. Her opponent reached around her, getting ready to flip them again, when they felt a small prick at their neck. They froze, looking up at the small blonde woman above that grinned down at them with an almost wild look in her eye and a dagger to their neck, and smiled.

A laugh burst free from Ren’s chest – unrestrained and disbelieving – as she stared down at the woman she was straddling. Dala laid her hands back on the ground, grinning at Ren. She’d actually won.

“Well done.” Dala got out between heavy breaths, “Now I no longer have to hold back during training.”

“Oh, please.” Ren rolled off her. “You were _barely_ holding back.”

“Barely does not mean I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but it still made me feel better to say it.”

Dala threw her head back with a laugh, still laying on the ground, and Ren’s laugh joined her own as she walked over with her hand out, helping the avvar up.

“Do not get too comfortable. You will not best me again.” Dala said.

“Whatever, you’re proud of me.” Ren heard a small huff of a laugh from Alf and grinned over at him, her spirits high.

A loud boom echoed through the air and shook the ground beneath their feet.

“What the fu—” The words caught in her throat as she stared up at the sky. A line of green light surged up in a path headed straight for the Breach, and Ren watched in awe as the wound in the sky slowly sealed itself.

A few moments of silence passed before a loud cheer rang through the hold, avvar raising their weapons to the air or stomping on the ground in celebration.

The awe that Ren felt slowly turned to dread.

Dala turned to her, grinning, and watched the color drain from her face. The inquisitor closed the breach. Meaning they had sided with either the mages or the templars and now they were all off celebrating, just as the avvar were. They would have a party, singing of the inquisitor’s victory – their fears, that had been building since the Breach opened, finally fading.

And then Corypheus would bring an army down on top of them.

Tonight, Haven would fall.

Ren took off at a dead sprint toward the front gate of the hold.

“Ren!”

“Messenger!”

She ignored the sounds behind and around her as a few avvar took notice of her.

She needed to warn them. She doesn’t want to be a part of the inquisition, but she couldn’t just let people die when she _knew_ what was coming. She ran out the gate and bolted toward the trees in the direction of where the Breach had been connected to the ground.

Would the inquisitor know to search the forge for Harritt? Or the tavern for Flissa? Would they save Lysette? Adan? Minaeve? Threnn? Seggrit? Would—

Arms caught her around the middle, pulling her back into a body, and she clutched at them.

“Stop! Messenger, you need to stop!” Dala spoke directly into her ear, but she could barely hear her over the pounding in her head.

“Let me go! I have to warn them!” Ren screamed, digging her feet into the ground to try and pull the weight on her back forward. She needed to _run._ “Please. He’s bringing a dragon! They’re going to die if I don’t warn them.”

“What?” Dala spoke, and Ren finally registered who was holding her. “Who will die? What are you talking about, messenger?”

She turned to look at the woman over her shoulder. “The people in Haven.” She tried. “Please, you have to let me go. If I can make it in time, I can warn them. They have to know!”

Dala looked more than a little confused, but Ren felt the arms around her start to loosen.

“What is going on here!” A gruff voice shouted at them as a figure made its way through the crowd gathering around the gate. More than half the hold was staring at her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She had to go.

The Hand of Korth stared at her, stomping his way down to them with a group of red-painted avvar in his wake. When he caught the panic stricken look on her face he scoffed.

“Is our _messenger_ ,” he spit out the word, “finally showing her true face?”

“Look,” Ren started, “I get that you don’t like me, but we _need—_ ”

“We _need_ to be rid of lowlanders and those who would make us stray from the path of the mountain-father.” He smiled at her then, a cruel turn of his lips that sent a wave of cold down her spine, before turning back to the red avvar. “I believe our messenger has been training too hard lately. It has taken a toll on her fragile mind. One of you should escort her back to her cabin to get some rest.”

Ren’s eyes widened, and she shook her head even as two red avvar grabbed either of her arms, pulling her away from Dala and back toward the hold. “N-no! Wait! Just listen to me!” Her voice scratched at her throat as they pulled her through the crowd.

“And make sure she has adequate protection through the night! We wouldn’t want her getting hurt in her state.” The Hand of Korth yelled over the crowd at his warriors.

“A dragon is going to attack Haven!” Ren yelled at the crowd, trying to get any of the avvar watching to listen to her. “It will rain fire down upon the village, and they will have to resort to bringing the mountain down to try to escape.” She was met with confused faces – many of the avvar looking between themselves before averting their eyes. “Listen! We could help them! We could save those who would be lost in this attack if we just warn them.”

The man holding her left arm opened the door to her cabin, and she dug her feet in as she screamed out at the crowd.

“ _You have to listen to me!”_

She was tossed to the ground, and the door slammed shut with resounding thud. She immediately leapt to her feet and tried to pull the door open. It wouldn’t budge. She began to pound her fists against the wood, shouting at the people that she knew were just beyond the door, but no one answered.

She howled and raged against the door, but no one came.

Eventually, her voice gave out, and Ren slumped to the floor. The light coming in through the window was waning, and when she dragged herself off the floor to look through it, she could see the sun hitting the horizon.

Her fingers trailed the edges of the window searching for some latch or _something_ , but she found none. She resolved herself to breaking the glass and turned to crank back her elbow when she saw the figures outside the window. Six red avvar stood there, five with their backs turned to her, and one staring in at her with a blank expression.

She tried not to flinch and looked past him toward Haven. It wasn’t even a spot in the distance, and now that she couldn’t see the Breach it was even harder to locate. The best she could do was look at the mountain that she knew would soon be hit by the trebuchet. Her eyes never strayed from it, even as the sun disappeared and the stars shone in the night sky.

It only took about an hour after that before a roar bounced between the mountains.

She clutched at the windowsill, her grip turning her knuckles white, as she saw the first non-human thing apart from the meat served in the stew since she’d entered Thedas. Even from the great distance that spanned between them, Ren could distinctly see two large wings carrying a creature that Ren couldn’t blame anyone for mistaking for an archdemon.

It swept low, leaving Ren’s view, then a small orange glow became visible peeking through the mountains.

She was too late. Even if she left now, she couldn’t save anyone.

Ren felt frozen solid, her insides made of the ice she felt creeping through her mind. She could see a few red avvar had walked a couple paces away from the cabin, their jaws opening in shock as they gazed upon the dragon, before turning back to look at her with horror filled eyes.

None of them let her out, though.

When a dot of orange was lobbed clear across the sky, headed for the mountain, Ren felt a tear fall down her cheek. When the avalanche slid down the slope, a steady stream followed.

By the time everything had settled, and Haven was covered beneath a layer of white – the inquisitor buried somewhere beneath, Ren could barely see through the blur in her eyes.

She turned from the window then, shuffling without thought over to her bed, and climbed into it. Her limbs felt like they were moving through sludge – the amount of effort it took just to curl up into a ball on top of the furs felt tremendous. Her fingertips dug into her shoulders, her nails leaving small crescent shaped indents from the pressure, and she felt herself slip into something that was not sleep, but certainly didn’t feel like wakefulness.

That was how Alf and Dala found her, hours later.

Ren could barely hear sounds of shouting coming from her door through the haze in her mind, but she didn’t move to check, or even turn to look. When the shouting stopped, and the door creaked open to let two sets of feet through, her eyes stayed glued to the wall in front of her.

“Messenger?” She heard a tentative voice call out, and she finally closed her eyes against the sound.

“No.”

The footsteps stopped. “No?” Dala’s voice was softer than she’d ever heard it, and Ren didn’t know if it was out of concern for her or if she realized how close Ren was to snapping.

“You don’t get to call me that.” Ren turned to them, her red-rimmed eyes glaring at Dala. “You don’t get to claim that I am some messenger sent from your god, and then refuse to listen to me when I give you a goddamned _message_.”

Dala didn’t flinch, exactly. But her shoulders went stiff and her hands drew in tight to her body. “We wouldn’t have made it in time.”

Ren _did_ flinch. “You don’t know that. We might—”

“The journey from here to the hold the lowlanders live in is too long.” Dala set her jaw, staring at Ren’s crumpled form on the bed unwaveringly. “It is at least a day’s journey on horseback, and the wound closed within just a few hours of the attack.” Ren closed her eyes again, shaking her head subtly against the bed. “No matter how fast we would have ridden, we wouldn’t have made it in time for—”

“We could have at least _tried!”_ It came out as a harsh croak, her voice still raw from earlier. “We _should_ have at least tried.”

Dala’s words died in her throat, and the two got locked in a stare down as Alf made his way around to the bed, sitting on the edge and slowly coaxing Ren’s body out from fetal position and up so that he could slide behind. She could feel him undoing the ruined braids in her hair, combing through it with his fingers before starting to redo the complicated plait.

Dala hunched over, still taller than Ren would have been standing up, but looking smaller than Ren had ever seen her. She made her way over to the chair, sliding it across the floor until it was in front of Ren and dropping into it. She let out a long breath, leaning forward to place her elbows on her knees.

“We should have at least tried.” Dala echoed, and tears formed again in Ren’s eyes. Her shoulders shook with silent heaves, and she felt two large arms pull her back into a warm body. She curled into it as Dala reached forward, grabbing the hand that wasn’t clutching at Alf’s shirt. The three of them sat like that for what could’ve been hours or just a few _really_ long minutes before Ren wiped at her eyes again.

“Your brother’s an ass.”

Dala snorted, then covered her mouth as a louder laugh threatened to follow. “Yes.” She eventually managed to get out. Ren just nodded in return, earning another snort from the woman in front of her before she straightened her face once more.

Ren could tell what was coming. She could see it in her face that she was going to ask how she’d known about the attack. It was pretty damn suspicious, when Ren thought about it. A girl, falling out of the sky, suddenly has information about what some evil cockroach of a man is planning? She’s almost glad she was here instead of with the inquisition. They might have just locked her up, claiming that she was working for Corypheus.

Ren didn’t think she could handle anything else tonight.

“Tomorrow.” Ren managed, just as Dala was opening her mouth. At the raised eyebrow, she continued, “I’ll answer your questions tomorrow. I just…” Her head drooped back, falling onto Alf’s shoulder, “Not tonight.”

Dala shifted her jaw, questions obviously at the tip of her tongue, but she nodded, squeezing Ren’s hand before starting to let go. Ren gripped harder, and Dala stopped her backwards motion as she stared at her.

She must’ve seen something in Ren’s expression because the next thing she knew, Alf was pulling her back into the bed with Dala coming up in front of her. She ended up sandwiched between the two, her left hand still curled into Alf’s shirt and her right holding Dala’s.

With the human heat coming from both sides, the last traces of cold finally leeched out of her, and it coaxed her eyes closed.


	4. Red Handed

Ren woke up the next morning with Dala and Alf already up and moving about the cabin, causing her to roll her eyes. These people and their internal clocks were completely skewed. It was barely light out.

When she pulled herself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall, Alf noticed her and nudged Dala. Both avvar walked over to her, Dala taking the chair that faced her again and Alf standing beside her. When neither said anything for a moment, Ren raised an eyebrow and Dala merely opened her hands outward toward Ren in response.

Oh, right. They wanted the explanation she’d promised them yesterday.

 _Yesterday_ had been a clusterfuck. She hadn’t meant to lose it like that, but she’d been living in a sort of haze since she’d ‘arrived’ in Thedas – even with the templar attack, she had a difficult time remembering that real people were being affected by everything that happened here. All of the implications of the Breach closing, as well as everything else she knew was to come, came crashing down on her like…like—

Ren swallowed a bitter, near hysterical laugh.

Like an avalanche.

Ren bit her lip, considering the two. She couldn’t exactly start with ‘so there’s this videogame’. Not only would she have to explain exactly what a videogame was, and probably have a philosophical conversation about what’s real, but she’d have to explain technology in general, and, apart from ol’ Ben Franklin with a kite and a key, Ren didn’t think she could accurately explain all of that.

Going from there, if she told them she knew everything that would come to pass, and that knowledge got out, how quickly before Corypheus found out? If he, or anyone with a thirst for power, found out what was going to happen, how badly would that change the timeline? Would the inquisitor even win against Corypheus if she changed too much? Had she already stepped on a goddamned butterfly?

“Messenger?” Dala’s voice broke her from the downward spiral her thoughts were taking, and Ren let out a breath.

“Okay, first of all, _Ren._ ” Ren looked right at Dala, who rolled her eyes but nodded, before continuing. “Alright, this is going to be complicated. Before I tell you anything, I need you to promise me something. Swear you won’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you without me giving you _expressed_ permission to do so.”

Alf nodded immediately, but Dala remained silent.

“Dala?”

She clenched her jaw. “I cannot swear not to share the information you give me if it is a threat to the clan.”

More of a threat to the world, but Ren understood her point.

“I am not a threat to the clan. I’ve been here a month now and I’ve done nothing but try to learn from you or help where I can.” Ren could see that Dala wasn’t persuaded, so she tried something else. “It could possibly be considered dangerous, but only if it were wielded by someone who would use it for dangerous purposes. If it is only me – and I would not ever use it to hurt the clan unless the clan became a threat to the continued existence of the world – then it is not a threat.”

Dala’s nod was slow and a bit hesitant, but it was there.

“Okay.” Ren took a breath through her nose, held it for a moment and let it back out, squaring her shoulders. “I’m going to try to explain this in a way you’ll understand, but it confuses even me so bear with me.” They both nodded. “Alright. So, I can’t entirely explain how, but, as you saw, I knew what was going to happen. I’ve seen some things that will happen, but it’s more complicated than me just knowing.” Both of their faces were blank, and she nodded. “Yeah _I_ don’t even really understand what I just said.”

“You were yelling about the dragon.” Dala said. “You even spoke of the mountain falling on the lowlander’s village. You _knew_ what would happen before it had come to pass.”

“Right, yes. I knew that was a _possibility_.”

“You were granted visions by the Lady.” Dala spoke with a hint of awe in her voice that made Ren uncomfortable.

“It’s not exactly that simple. I _came here_ with this knowledge, I didn’t see it like a vision.”

“You were chosen for a reason. If you were chosen for this knowledge, to help the Lady, then the knowledge was granted by Her. When a soul finds a new home, they do not necessarily know what they are to do, but they are guided through visions or portents. This is what you are describing to me.” Dala retorted.

Ren opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn’t come up with a response to that, so her mouth shut with a click. “I…suppose.”

A serious look took over Dala’s face. “This will complicate things.”

“No kidding.”

“No, I mean that my brother already does not like you. If he finds out that you are a prophet, he will kill you to demonstrate his strength.”

“What a keeper.”  Ren drawled, and Dala cracked a smile. “And I’m hoping that the word ‘prophet’ has a different connotation here.” Ren mumbled, before continuing. “As much as this sucks, I can’t exactly take it back now. Everyone heard me yelling.” She put her hand up to run it through her hair before remembering the braids and just gently ran her fingers over them. “Maybe, for now, we just say that the Lady had given me that one message. I don’t have any more information, I just…” A sigh. “I don’t know. We’ll wing it.”

“Wing it?”

“Make it up as we go.”

“Ah. We must tell Movran when he returns, though.”

“Fine, yeah.” Ren nodded, before pointing at Dala. “But _just_ him.” When they both nodded, Ren was as close to satisfied as she knew she’d be able to come with this conversation. “Alright. Now that _that_ talk is over, can we see if we can go get some breakfast? I didn’t get dinner last night before your brother put me on house arrest and my stomach is rebelling.”

 

* * *

 

 

Her ‘imprisonment’ didn’t last long, and when she walked out the door in the morning – following behind Dala with Alf in tow – the red avvar stepped aside with one glare from the tall avvar woman.

They made their way toward the hall for breakfast, and Ren noticed it. All around them, avvar were staring at her. It started with one nudging their friend, with both turning to look at her, and soon enough the entire hold was sneaking glances at her as she walked to breakfast. She could hear little whispers as she passed.

“—drug her away when—"

“—dragon flew over the—”

“—Lady’s message? We didn’t—”

Ren ground her teeth and kept walking without making eye contact with any of the avvar. She’d forgotten how wrapped up in their different gods the people of Thedas were. When the trio sat down in the hall, Ren expected to be surrounded by avvar the moment her butt hit the seat, but not a single one asked her about what had happened. That didn’t stop them from coming up to her, though.

The place where she sat was soon crowded with avvar, but none of them asked the question that Ren would have, had she been in their position. Instead, they would nod low when she caught their eye, or simply sit near her – maybe waiting to hear an explanation, should she offer one. It was a strangely silent breakfast, and Ren didn’t know what to make of it.

Luck may have been on her side, though, as the next few days went by without her so much as _seeing_ the Hand of Korth.

Her routine went back to normal, or as close to normal as a day full of getting new bruises could be, with the difference being that now she had an ample number of sparring partners. Different avvar throughout the keep would come to watch Dala train her, and the woman in question had started calling someone from the crowd to come and spar with Ren to make sure she was prepared ‘when someone who is _not_ me attacks.’ Variety and all that.

It was starting to help though, especially when Ren met the one or two avvar in the hold that were actually around her size. She was average height, but the towering figures that surrounded her on a daily basis were starting to give her a complex.

Every so often, Ren would catch a glimpse of the red paint that gave away one of the Hand of Korth’s men, but it was less frequent now. Ren thought that she saw a few that _had_ been wearing paint before the Breach closed that no longer bore the color. It seemed that he’d lost a few followers.

Ren tried not to think about how that altered how things might go for the inquisitor in Fallow Mire. Would that still happen? Or would there be too few followers of the prideful man that he couldn’t draw the attention of the Inquisition? The butterfly effect was a constant on Ren’s mind in those days.

Before she had realized it, the day had come when Movran would return.

Ren had been preparing for it. She knew that he would find out, one way or another, about her _episode_ , but she still hadn’t figured out what to say. Dala expected her to give Movran the whole story, but there was no way she could. If she told him what his son _might_ do, would he stop him? And if he did, would the inquisitor skip over the Fallow Mire altogether? What would happen to the rifts, then?

This whole _responsibility_ thing was giving Ren a headache, but she knew she had to be careful. She could potentially never run into the Inquisition at all, if she kept an eye on where they were going and what was happening. As far as she knew, they never came to this hold, so she was safe, for now.

But, if Movran used what she knew it might change things anyhow. From what she knew, Movran wasn’t the type of power hungry leader that might mess with the world too much, but he was a leader. Ren wasn’t about to underestimate what he would do for the good, or even advancement, of his clan. She would be cautious in what she told him.

She could maybe just tell him what the rest of the avvar know – that she knew only that one piece of information, and now her supply had run out – but that might make her seem useless if her whole shtick was a one off. That could leave her open to having less protection from Movran, should the Hand of Korth try something. Dala had said something about him wanting to prove his strength.

Plus, Dala already knew some of the truth, and she had been upfront about her intention to tell Movran. She was going to have to give him _something_ , one way or another.

Ren spent the morning of his arrival pacing back and forth across her room. Alf sat on her bed, lazily fiddling with twine that he was steadily turning into a thicker rope. Dala was off with her brother somewhere, preparing for the arrival of the goods that Movran had traded the dwarves of Orzammar for. She’d said before she left that sometimes a dwarf would come back with the group to trade a bit more, and Ren was almost excited at the prospect of seeing something that wasn’t human that _also_ wasn’t trying to destroy the world as they knew it.

When a knock at her door announced Dala’s arrival – she’d told Ren that they could go over how to break all of this to Movran a few hours before he arrived – she walked to the door to answer.

She didn’t see the shadow that passed in front of the window, or she would’ve been slightly more cautious.

When she opened the door, all Ren could comprehend was a blur of red and a shout from Alf behind her before the world went dark.

 

* * *

 

 

Ren woke up with a raging headache and a slowly building hatred of being unwilfully unconscious.

There was a particularly sore spot on her left temple, but when she moved her hand to reach for it she found herself unable to. Snapping her eyes open, Ren was greeted with the view of damp stone walls on all sides. There was a red avvar in the corner that left the room as soon as he saw her awake, and Ren felt her stomach plummet. Glancing behind her, she saw a rope that bound her hands together, and then farther back to a circle of iron that protruded from the wall.

The Hand of Korth had taken her prisoner.

How had Movran allowed this? Ren stopped that thought short. Movran hadn’t arrived yet, so his son must’ve been working alone – or as alone as one could be with henchmen.

She tried to stop herself from panicking. This must’ve been some kind of prison kept underneath the hall, or some building in the hold that she hadn’t seen yet. It wouldn’t be long until Dala came and found her. Hell, Alf had been with her when they took her, he’d probably be on his way as well.

Unless they’d killed him.

Ren shuddered. The silent man was more than capable of taking care of himself, and avvar place clan above all else. The Hand of Korth wouldn’t have killed him, though he may be unconscious or in a state similar to Ren. If he had killed him, he’d be facing his own punishment faster than he could blink. He wouldn’t risk his whole clan going against him, would he?

Ren’s thoughts were interrupted by another avvar woman entering the room, followed by the one from earlier. Ren rolled her shoulders back, leaning against the wall and trying to portray an unaffected image, but the razor-edged smile that the woman wore put a knot in her throat.

“You’re awake.” The woman stepped closer.

“Well-spotted.” Her reply made that smile creep even wider.

“I’ve been curious about the _guest_ in the hold for some time now.” Her eyes crawled down Ren’s form, and it felt like spiders were all over her. “You are shorter than I imagined.”

“I am average height!” Ren snapped.

The woman simply gave a mocking laugh, more a huff of air in her direction than any actual noise. “You are _less_ than I imagined.” Her eyes narrowed at Ren. “He spoke of you as if you were some kind of threat.” Another laugh enclosed in her throat. “‘ _The chosen of the Lady_ ’. They say you knew about the Mountain-Father’s plans to rid us of the lowlanders that stayed in the old hold. That you tried to stop it from happening. As if you have a right to speak for the avvar.” She lunged closer then, and Ren couldn’t help but push herself back into the wall.

“I never claimed to speak for anyone. Your people put that title on me.”

Something seemed to snap within the woman as the next second Ren felt a strong grip on her jaw and all she saw was the woman’s bared teeth in front of her.

“That hold was _ours!_ ” She spit the word in Ren’s face. “We were going to reclaim it – our rightful hold – until _you_ ,” The fingers around her jaw dug into her cheeks painfully, “went against the Mountain Father. You spew lies of the Lady and pull good avvar from the path of Korth.”

This was some religious bullshit? Seriously? All Ren wanted was some fucking peace and quiet and for the world not to end and these people kept throwing her head first into their beliefs like they were _her_ fault. And weren’t the avvar supposed to worship the Lady of the Skies above all the other gods? Dala had spoken of other holds that had put Korth above Her and had ended up being invaded by the Imperium or suffering some other terrible fate. She’d called it the ‘wrath of the Lady’.

“You would forsake the Lady?” Ren didn’t know how long she could hold off for, but she had to try to keep this lady, or the Hand of Korth, from killing her until Dala and Alf arrived.

“The Lady has not answered our prayers!” The fist that wasn’t gripping her jaw slammed against the wall next to her face. “She has forsaken _us._ ”

Ren swallowed around the dryness in her throat. “And you think _this_ is how you will fix that? By imprisoning her messenger and straying from her will? You wish to incur her wrath?” Ren could see the red avvar man behind the woman shift a bit at her words, but she kept her eyes on the woman in front of her. “You can only keep me here for so long before Movran finds out. When your thane hears what you have done to a guest in his hold, the Lady’s _messenger_ no less, you will face judgement.”

The smile returned to the woman’s face then, slowly spreading until it looked close to cracking at the edges. “Movran is not my thane, little messenger. And when the Mountain-Father’s Hand proves his strength, he shall take his rightful place among our clan. We shall return to our hold with the head of another false prophet and claim our place as leaders.”

Ren rolled her eyes. “I am _not_ a goddamned proph—”

_Another._

Ren’s eyes searched the room behind the woman, as much as she could with her face in the tight grip, and the color slowly drained from her face. This wasn’t some dungeon in Frost-Howler hold. It wasn’t the same level of cold, and the buildings there were mostly made of wood. Movran wasn’t going to be able to find her, not here.

Not in the Fallow Mire.

“You’re going to kill the Herald of Andraste.” Ren stated, and the woman finally released her face as she leaned back to laugh – the chilling sound bouncing off the walls of the empty room.

“Ah, is this another _message?_ Has the Lady foreseen our success?”

“You can’t do this—”

Her face was inches from her own again before she could even blink.

“Oh, but we can.” The woman stood up to her full height, walking back toward the door without even a look back to Ren. “And we will.” She stopped at the door, the avvar next to her standing at attention as he held it open, and peered at her. “Get comfortable, little messenger, you’re going to stay awhile.”

The door swung shut, and the heavy sound of a bar locking into place followed, leaving Ren alone in the dusty room.

 

* * *

 

 

Ren didn’t know how much time had passed before she saw anyone other than the red avvar that stood guard outside the room and occasionally fed her meals of stale bread and questionable looking water. They’d cut her hands free so she could eat, but now she had one arm chained to the wall.

She’d been given five meals, but they were stretched far apart, giving Ren the impression that they either fed her twice a day, or maybe even once.

After the fifth meal, however, came a surprise.

The door opened, and Ren looked up expecting an early meal. The haggard looking men and women bound in chains were a surprise. They were ushered rather forcefully through the door, a few falling to their knees, and the woman came up behind them.

It was the first time she’d seen her since that first day, and Ren was kind of hoping she’d be spared another encounter. The twisted grin on the woman’s face said otherwise.

“Good morning, little messenger.” Her eyes roamed Ren’s face, the smile growing at the lingering bruises she’d left. “I’ve brought you some company. Aren’t you pleased?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Ren deadpanned.

The woman’s smile twitched, and she motion with her head toward Ren. A large red avvar came toward her, and Ren pushed back into the wall, her foot coming up to stop him, but he merely swatted it aside before backhanding her across the face. Her head swung with the motion, and Ren tasted blood from where her lip split.

“So ungrateful.” The woman remarked as the man returned to her side. Ren expected some other taunting threat to slip past the woman’s lips, but she merely turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving Ren with her new roommates.

Silence reigned for a few moments as the group settled down around the room. They all seemed to be chained together, so they couldn’t go too far apart before the rest have to follow. A few checked the door, and Ren finally broke the silence.

“There are at least five guarding the door, and a few dozen more between here and wherever you’re thinking of going.” The two at the door stopped, and the whole group faced her warily. Ren sighed. She knew she looked like the avvar, minus the paint and tattoos, so she tried not to blame them for their caution. “There really isn’t a way out of here.”

“Says you.” A voice from the back spoke up. “How do we know this isn’t some trick to get information from us? A little girl covered in bruises to pull on our heartstrings, make us let down our guard.”

“Okay, you know what, I am _at least_ as tall as you.” Ren glared at the man who seemed confused by the change in conversation. “And did they ask you any questions? Hm? Any interrogations about anything at all?”

The same one replied. “They asked us if we were part of the inquisition!”

“Yeah,” Ren nodded, “and did you answer?”

“Well,” he stopped for a moment, “yes.”

“Right. Anyone ask you any questions after that?”

This time, a man closer to her shook his head. “No. Jus’ threw us in here righ’ after like wild mabari.”

“Doesn’t seem like they want any information from you, anymore.” Ren looked back at the first man who spoke, the tugged her arm, rattling the chain. “I’m as much a prisoner here as you are.”

“What do they want with us?” A woman with a split lip asked her.

Ren leaned her head back against the wall and let her eyes slip shut. “You’re bait.”

“What d’you mean lass?” The closer man asked.

“They don’t want anything from _you._ They want your leader.” She opened her eyes again and looked over the group of them. “They want the inquisitor. Their leader, the Hand of Korth, wants to ‘prove his strength’,” Ren rolled her eyes, “by killing your leader when they come for you. One ‘herald’ against another.”

Murmurs rippled through the group as the soldiers turned to each other, some in relief and some in concern.

“We’ll just be needing to wait a bit, then.” The man nodded. “The Inquisitor will bring reinforcements. Won’t be much of a fight.”

“I hope you’re right.” Ren whispered, and he looked at her closer.

“Why are _you_ here then lass?” He scrutinized the bruises on her face. “Why do they keep their own people prisoner?”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “I am _not_ one of their people. These are no longer a part of the clan.” Ren scratched at her cheek with her chained hand. “As for why I’m here…I couldn’t tell you. Must’ve pissed the boss off.” She finished with a shrug of her shoulders, and they accepted that with a nod.

Ren technically wasn’t lying. She couldn’t really tell them why they brought her here. She was a threat to them because of her knowledge and their belief in her connection with their Lady. Telling them that would earn her looks that she wanted to avoid. When the inquisitor comes, Ren wanted to slip away as fast as possible. Maybe she’d go live in the Hinterlands at the crossroads. Or maybe she’d even go back to Frost-Holwer hold – she couldn’t just leave Alf and Dala without an explanation.

And she had _definitely_ pissed the boss off.

For the next week – or so she assumed – Ren and the soldiers suffered the jeers of the red avvar, and sparse meals that didn’t come anywhere close to filling their stomachs. There were times when Ren would lose consciousness for a moment from the gnawing hunger, just to wake to one of the soldiers shaking her shoulder with concern in their eyes.

It was near the end of the last day when Ren heard sounds of fighting, followed by a shaking underneath their feet.

The Inquisition had arrived.

The other soldiers heard it, too, and soon they were all on their feet, staring at the door like it would give them any more information. Harsh slams accompanied with a tremble running through the floor lasted for minutes that felt like hours. Then, finally, there was silence.

The group held its breath, grabbing hands and squeezing as they waited to see who the winner of the fight would be. When a sturdy set of footsteps approached the door, Ren leaned on the shoulder of the man who helped to hold her up. And the door opened.

A towering figure, head adorned with horns, came into view. Ren felt like she would be sick, dry heaving against the emptiness in her stomach, when she took a closer look. The horns were different from the ones that attached to The Hand of Korth’s headdress, and there was only one set. They curved back, following shockingly white hair that tumbled over her greyish-lavender shoulders. A slight green glow defined her sharp jawline, and Ren followed her arm up to where it was leaning against the top of the door frame and saw the Anchor.

The inquisitor was an Adaar.

 


End file.
